


alpha instinct

by wordstruck



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha Kuroo Tetsurou, Alpha Yaku Morisuke, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dubcon if you squint, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Top Kuroo Tetsurou, True Alpha, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26611162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstruck/pseuds/wordstruck
Summary: He presses an open mouth back to the other alpha’s throat, just a hint of teeth; feels the hitch in Yaku’s breath. Tastes bitter cinnamon and clove, stinging ginger. Feels something hot rising in him, a static under his skin. The whiskey-citrus scent intensifies in the tiny apartment.“Missed you,” he says, hushed, honest.“Then take me to bed, asshole.”
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Comments: 3
Kudos: 170





	alpha instinct

**Author's Note:**

> written as a commission for [@Aom_mie19](https://twitter.com/Aom_mie19), who wanted alpha/alpha couple kuroyaku with kuroo as a "true/dominant alpha"! so kuroo's "true alpha" nature gets triggered in bed, and he dominates yaku and makes him feel almost like he's in heat XD i've never written kuroyaku before (or this type of omegaverse) so this was an interesting writing experience. i did have fun making them banter tho.
> 
> (am i attached to the endearment "big alpha brute" now? perhaps.)
> 
>  **content warning** that the nature of kuroo's "true alpha" triggering and dominance of yaku in bed could be read as dubcon-leaning. yaku consents in the moment but it's partially bc of kuroo's "true alpha state" making him feel like he's in heat. they discuss it afterwards and everything works out fine. keep in mind while reading!

* * *

Kuroo doesn’t think he’s particularly clingy.

Part of it comes from the sense of independence (to put it gratuitously) fostered in him as a child. Left to his own devices (or to the Kenma household), he’s learned both a healthy respect for other people’s boundaries and a responsibility over his own needs. He acknowledges easily that other people have other obligations in their lives, and he will not always be a priority. 

Still, _nine weeks_ without seeing his boyfriend again feels a bit much.

It’s difficult, he knows. Between Kuroo’s college courses and Yaku travelling the country for games, free time is hard to come by. But he does not and will not resent Yaku choosing to play for a team based in a different city; had even encouraged him to take the best offer available. In return, Yaku never complains when he hangs around Kuroo’s apartment while Kuroo sits buried in readings, papers, and that one module in microeconomics that makes him want to smother himself in his sleep.

The bottom line is: they are both mature, independent adults with their own ambitions, and Kuroo can respect the boundaries they’ve drawn in their lives.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel a little bit lonely.

(It’s the _lack,_ the ache of _someone not here._ It’s wanting someone else in his bed, missing that familiar cinnamon-clove-ginger scent. Sometimes his 22-sqm apartment feels too empty.

Sometimes he calls Yaku just to hear him. The other alpha never calls him out, but he’ll provoke Kuroo in a dozen other ways. And he’ll stay on the line as long as Kuroo needs, teasing and sweet.)

By some miracle they’ve found a few days off, Kuroo between terms and Yaku’s team falling in the playoff round. It’s a few days yet before Yaku’s due to travel to Tokyo, but Kuroo already finds himself — not nervous, no, but. He cleans his apartment twice over, contemplates replacing his futon. He makes a meal plan because they’re adults and proper nutrition is important. He buys a new pack of underwear.

By the morning of, Kuroo’s more anxious than right before a rut.

He’s not a clingy person, but when the knock comes on his door, he’s on his feet and stumbling over scattered books to answer it. He skitters to a halt right in the genkan, running his hands through his hair and taking a deep breath.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says, careless-casual, opening the door.

“I literally heard you tripping over your own feet,” Yaku deadpans, striding past Kuroo and toeing his shoes off.

All right, maybe he wasn’t so subtle.

“How was the trip?” he asks, kicking the door closed and trailing after Yaku into the apartment.

“I think my back is broken.”

Kuroo laughs, sidling over so he’s behind Yaku, can duck and nip lighty at his throat. He hears as much as he feels Yaku’s sigh.

“Worth it now that I’m here,” Yaku murmurs, and Kuroo chuckles. Yaku turns around and tilts his head, an silent invitation.

 _Well?,_ the slant of his expression says. _Scent me._

How could he not oblige?

Whiskey and citrus blooms as Kuroo tugs Yaku back, toppling both of them onto the couch. He buries his face in the other man’s shoulder, inhales cinnamon and clove, and something inside him eases. Yaku huffs, exasperated and fond, shifting until the lines of them fit. People like to describe Kuroo as feline, but between the two of them, he knows which one is more like a stray cat. He considers himself lucky to tame it.

“Did you actually sweep under the fucking _coffee table,_ ” Yaku demands, lifting his head, and Kuroo snorts.

“I’m trying to create a moment here.”

“What else, did you bake me a cake?”

“Shut _up._ ” Kuroo stabs fingers at Yaku, but the other alpha’s already ducking away, laughing, and Kuroo adores him like this. More mellowed out than he was in high school, when they’d both felt like they were shouldering the weight of everyone’s aspirations. Loose-limbed and carefree.

He tugs Yaku back down and resumes scenting happily, nipping under the patch on the other man’s neck. It gets in his way, but Kuroo knows better than to take it off without permission. He hums instead, idling his fingers up and down Yaku’s spine, tracing a path from jaw to shoulder with tongue and teeth. He feels Yaku shiver on top of him and smirks.

“Stop being so smug,” Yaku mutters.

“‘M not,” Kuroo retorts, sucking a little mark over Yaku’s collar. “‘Sides it’s not my fault you’re so cute.”

“ _One_ more word.”

“Oh I’m terrified.”

Yaku tries to get up again, but Kuroo holds him more securely in place. He presses an open mouth back to the other alpha’s throat, just a hint of teeth; feels the hitch in Yaku’s breath. Tastes bitter cinnamon and clove, stinging ginger. Feels something hot rising in him, a static under his skin. The whiskey-citrus scent intensifies in the tiny apartment. Yaku’s fingers clench on his biceps as another shudder runs through him.

“Something you like?” Kuroo murmurs, pulling back so he can dig a thumb into the pretty red bruise he’s left behind. Yaku scowls at him.

“You’re being a tease,” he grumbles, and Kuroo laughs, tucking his hands under Yaku’s shirt. His skin is warm. God, Kuroo wants him.

“What say we celebrate your arrival by consummating our relationship,” he says cheekily, kissing just under Yaku’s jaw.

“Who the fuck says _consummating_ —”

Kuroo cuts him off with a kiss, sitting them both up and curling two hands under Yaku’s ass. There’s a restlessness inside him that’s growing, urging him to fuck Yaku right here, shove him down to the cushions and _take._ He pushes it aside, ducking his head, breath already a little short as he breathes spice-scent and his fingers press in harder.

“Missed you,” he says, hushed, honest.

The other alpha goes quiet for a moment, then turns his head, brushing lips over Kuroo’s messy hair.

“Then take me to bed, asshole.”

The futon is too small for two adults, but that’s never stopped them. Yaku rolls on top of him as soon as they’re down, slotting himself between Kuroo’s legs and grinding their hips together. And normally Kuroo wouldn’t care — he loves it when Yaku fucks him, plays him expertly, clever fingers stripping Kuroo of his cockiness until he’s a mess — but something in him rebels at the idea now, wants to _dominate._ Wants the control this time; to have Yaku under him, shaking and crying and—

Yaku nips at his scent gland cattily. “Could you pay attention when I’m trying to—”

And Kuroo—

—snarls, flipping them over and pinning Yaku to the mattress. He presses bared teeth to Yaku’s now-naked throat, just shy of biting. Whiskey-citrus fills the air, thick and intoxicating. His hips rock down, and even between layers of clothing the friction is _yes-good-more-more_ but also not enough.

“What—” Yaku gasps, going tense in Kuroo’s grip. “Your rut isn’t due for—”

It feels like he’s hearing Yaku through stuffed cotton. “‘M not,” he mumbles, fingers tightening around Yaku’s thigh, “just gotta — fuck, you smell so _good_ —”

“Kuroo—”

“—wanna knot you—”

“You can fuck me, just—”

“Hold _still._ ” His voice goes deep, commanding; a resonance in his tone that’s never been there before. There’s something restless-reckless under his skin, frustrated and angry at the thought of resistance. Kuroo lurches forward, teeth digging in harder, scent dizzying. Yaku whines then, hips jerking with a gasp. Kuroo kisses the sound out of his mouth, unrelenting and heavy. He feels Yaku’s hands clutch at his shirt and almost purrs in satisfaction.

“Clothes,” he mutters, pulling away to yank his shirt off overhead, back muscles flexing. Yaku’s eyes go dark at the sight. “Off, _now,_ want you—”

“Yes, fuck, just let me—”

Yaku complies hastily; he’s already shirtless, and some ungraceful squirming gets his shorts and underwear off as well. There’s a few bruises on his skin, and Kuroo’s only too happy to put his mouth to them, feel Yaku tense at the touch. He skims his hands down Yaku’s body, scratching thin lines and denting firm muscle. When he kisses his way back up, slots his lips back over the other alpha’s scent gland, there’s no resistance this time. Yaku is pliant, trembling; expression dazed, as if he’s tipsy.

 _Good,_ Kuroo thinks, swiping his thumb over Yaku’s lower lip before slipping it inside. Yaku licks at it, sucking the finger into his mouth and running his tongue over calloused skin. Kuroo presses down; Yaku moans.

Everything from there is half-hazy, as if he’s in a rut. He _feels_ like rut, the insistent need to _take,_ to pin down his mate and fuck them, knot them, fill them up. He’s scenting so heavily he can almost taste it. Kuroo drags his open mouth over Yaku’s skin, and how long has he been craving this, _them_ ; wanting Yaku in his bed, under him, around him, gonna take him so good Kuroo will be so good—

“ _Kuroo,_ ” the other man demands, rocking his hips up. 

The strangled cry Yaku gives as Kuroo slips eager fingers into him is almost a grace. He’s tense, but Kuroo works him open, one finger, two, fucking into him as Kuroo mouths at his cock, sucks the tip, making Yaku writhe and whine. When he sinks his mouth down onto Yaku’s cock, swallowing just as he crooks his fingers, he’s rewarded with a full-body shudder and a shout.

“Need to—” Kuroo pulls back, gritting his teeth in frustration as he fumbles to both turn Yaku over and shove down his sweatpants. He needs his own clothes _off_ but he doesn’t want to stop touching his mate. The other alpha whines, then, reaching forward to tug down Kuroo’s clothing, clumsy in his eagerness. The cool air on his exposed cock makes Kuroo hiss. He pushes Yaku back down, pauses to take a look at him, laid out so sweetly and all for Kuroo. Only for Kuroo.

“ _Present,_ ” he commands, that same deep-dark voice. Yaku’s eyes go wide, lips parting and scent wisping through the air. Then he moves, turning onto hands and knees, but Kuroo still grabs at him and hauls him until he’s just how Kuroo wants. He savors it for a moment, kissing a hot line along Yaku’s spine, down and down until his mouth is on Yaku’s ass. The other man jerks, palms slipping as he drops further down, back arched so prettily.

“Alpha,” he moans, and how can Kuroo refuse?

It’s tight and hot as he eases his cock inside. His arms cage Yaku in, presence overwhelming, everywhere. The other alpha feels so much smaller like this, with Kuroo covering him, and it fans the heat sparking in Kuroo’s body. One hand grabs Yaku’s hip in a grip bordering bruising as he pulls out, excruciatingly slow, dragging inch by inch and then — snaps forward, relishing the noise it elicits. Again and again, thrusts deep and deliberate, unrelenting. He buries his face in Yaku’s neck, inhaling cinnamon-clove-ginger. His other hand wraps around Yaku’s cock, light and teasing, but Yaku’s oversensitized enough that the touch makes him jolt. Kuroo grins open-mouthed and vindictive, stroking the length over and over, until—

Yaku clenches hard around Kuroo’s cock as he climaxes, crying out, shaking, so good _so good_ and Kuroo—

When he comes back to his senses, he’s buried to the hilt inside Yaku, knot locking them together. He’s still got his hand around Yaku’s cock (no knot, he registers vaguely, but there’s cum all over his fingers). And his teeth are buried in Yaku’s shoulder hard enough to break skin, just a few inches from the scent gland in his neck.

In the aftermath, it’s Kuroo who’s dazed, head still fuzzy and movements sluggish. Still, he’s careful as he eases himself out of Yaku, pressing apologetic kisses between sweaty shoulder blades when the other alpha whimpers and flinches. He has a vague notion of swiping fingers through the trickle of cum down Yaku’s thigh, fuck it back into him, but resists. 

“You okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Yaku answers him with a weak kick.

(All right, he deserved that.)

“Bastard,” Yaku rasps, turning over slowly, gingerly. His skin is littered with bruises and bite marks. Kuroo grimaces sheepishly. Yaku glowers at him, although it’s less effective when he looks the way he does — debauched, skin flushed, hair disheveled, mouth kiss-bitten-red. He kicks at Kuroo again, brow furrowed in a scowl. “Fuck was that about?”

“I… have no idea,” Kuroo admits, rubbing a hand over his neck. He’s never been in this state before — like a rut but more… _consuming,_ overwhelming, static under skin and an almost-compulsion to _take._ A deeper instinct so strong it’d overridden his senses. 

“You almost _bit_ me,” Yaku points out, rolling his shoulder with a grimace. “The hell were you thinking?”

Kuroo’s hands open-close, open-close, fidgeting with the urge to touch, comfort, but he can’t and shouldn’t. He’d crossed a line there and he knows it, even if he has no idea _why._ “I don’t think I was.” He gnaws at his lip, gaze lowered. “First time I felt that way.”

A pause, then when Kuroo dares to look up, there are less sharp edges to the other man’s expression. Yaku sighs, tension unspooling from his body.

“Me too.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Felt almost like…” He trails off, color on his cheeks deepening, almost like he’s... embarrassed.

( _So cute,_ Kuroo thinks, biting down to smother his grin.)

“Like?” he prompts, one eyebrow quirk. Yaku glowers at him, then scrubs a hand over his face.

“Like I was in heat,” he mutters, and — Kuroo snorts, clapping a hand over his mouth. Yaku kicks out at him again, but Kuroo catches his ankle, ducking to press an affectionate-apologetic kiss to his ankle.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, half-laughing. Yaku twists his leg, trying to pry it from Kuroo’s grip, but Kuroo just nips lightly at the ball joint before kissing it again, working his way up to Yaku’s knee. His other hand comes up, fingers lightly massaging the other alpha’s calf, rubbing small circles into skin.

“D’know what came over me,” he goes on, moving his hands higher up so he can work on Yaku’s knee. “It just — it felt like I just — _had to_ get you under me, like an alpha instinct but more — intense.”

“I’ll say.” Yaku shifts to make himself more comfortable, wincing just a bit. Kuroo kisses his knee. “You had—” He gestures, waving a hand at Kuroos’ face. “Fangs, for a moment there.”

Kuroo blinks, then his eyes drift to the bite mark on Yaku’s shoulder, scabbed over but stark and prominent on skin. He lowers Yaku’s leg, then leans in, telegraphing his motions so Yaku can pull away if he wants. He doesn’t.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, hushed, fingers hovering over the marks left by his teeth.

Yaku shrugs, careless-candid. “Aches a little,” he admits, “but I’ll live.”

Kuroo snorts again, softer, fonder. “How about you let me take care of that,” he says, “then I can run you a bath and wash your hair?”

There’s a pause as Yaku mock-considers the offer, finger tapping his lip, brow exaggeratedly furrowed. Kuroo has the sudden urge to flick his forehead and barely restrains himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yaku says, eyes crinkled soft at the corners. “Get a move on, you big alpha brute.”

“Yes, alpha,” Kuroo retorts, then leans in to steal a kiss. Yaku tilts his head, deepening it for just a moment before pulling away.

“And dinner while you’re at it,” he says, and Kuroo stares at him a moment before dropping his head to hide his chuckle. Terrible, impossible man.

“Yes, alpha,” he repeats, rolling his eyes, but Yaku’s smiling as Kuroo kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaand thank you for reading!! hope you guys liked that XD come say hi on twitter, i'm [@redluxite](https://twitter.com/redluxite) and you can find ways to request more rarepair content or support my writing ^__^


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